


A Flourish of Hate

by Mega_Erofan



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Hate, Revenge, cinna - Freeform, dragonborn listener, hints of blood, post-dark brotherhood storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mega_Erofan/pseuds/Mega_Erofan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Cinna fully recovers from her injuries months earlier, she sets out to Solitude in order to settle the score with Commander Maro, her dear soon-to-be-dead uncle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Flourish of Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after _Born To Kill_ series so reading _Born To Kill_ is required if you wish to understand some of what is mentioned in the dialogue between Maro and Cinna.

The cold bitter winds of Skyrim’s northern mountains blow at Cinna’s back, making a mess of her fiery auburn hair as her black stallion gallops along the cobblestone road towards Solitude, a large trade city looming over a peaceful bay as the Blue Palace sat on a high cliff overlooking the large docking area of a regional trading company. She has waited for weeks to finally go through with her plan, allowing her injuries to heal before going to encounter the man that nearly caused her death two months ago; a man that should have died weeks earlier had she not been so carelessly foolish. She was here to fix this mistake, once and for all.

She pulls her worn cloth cowl over her face as she rides her midnight steed, Cassius, into the Solitude Stables. She dismounts the stallion and hands the reigns to what appeared to be the stable boy, judging by the condition of his dirty clothing and the smudges of dirt on his hands and face, along with a handful of gold coins embezzled with the aged face of Emperor Titus before she makes her way to the large gates of the walled off city along the wide cobblestone pathway. She makes her way through the grand gates and weaves through the bustling crowd in the marketplace, scanning over the face of every Imperial man she passes, her large and keen green eyes not missing a loose strand of hair falling or a bead of sweat forming on their bare cheeks.

“He has to be here.” Cinna growls under her breath as she stops beside the alchemist shop, scanning over the faces of several tan-skinned men that pass her as she pretends to adjust her blue dress and cowl, both embezzled with patterns of vines and wild blooms in silver thread. “Nazir told me his scout found him in this marketplace during his travels. He couldn’t have disappeared in a month that easily. He has to still be here.” A familiar head of dark red hair catches Cinna’s attention from the corner of her eye. She glances towards where the burgundy patch had disappeared from her sight and watches it enter The Winking Skeever, Solitude’s local tavern. A smirk ghosts her plump pink lips as she makes her way to the tavern, stopping to look over the weather worn wooden sign hanging over the street, the image of the large rodent species the place was named after carved into it along with ‘The Winking Skeever’ carved into the space above the artistic recreation of the blasphemous creature.

Cinna recalls how much she detests Skeevers, the damned rats the size of full-grown goats that roam freely in musky ruins and dark caverns all across Skyrim, at least all the ones she has explored in her travels. She rarely found the disgusting creatures in the open wilds, not that she needed them added to the typical beasts she runs into on a normal trip between cities: Bears, sabre cats, even the occasional ice wraith-the damned flying ice snakes. She remembers how a Skeever had given her the distinctive scars on her neck as a child back in Cyrodil when she had gone into the basement of her Imperial home to retrieve something for her mother. Needless to say it was the last time she ever went down there in her entire childhood but now she could not go into any dark damp place without running into the diseased rodents that now seem to haunt her so much these days. “Damned pests,” is all she mutters under her breath before entering the establishment.

She looks over the main room of the business, noting how the tavern seems so vaguely familiar to her, yet this was the first time she ever set foot in the place. Then again, she was familiar with almost every other tavern across Skyrim to the point where even the monthly visitors of each establishment knew her by name. Some call it sad, others disgraceful, but she cared as much for anyone’s opinion as she did about whether or not every Skeever in the world dropped dead for the sake of it. The warm flames of the mounted torches decorated the pale stone that made up every single wall. The wooden supports for the second floor show obvious age as the layers of off-white paint begin cracking and even peeling off some of the dark pillars, braced only my metal bearings at the base and head of each pole. She notes the rugged appearances of the patrons as well. With most being sailors from the local docks who had not shaved or bathed in quite some time it was to be expected but even their indignant odor of salt water and rotting fish could not match the enticing scents of the tavern. The aroma of bitter alcohol, sweet berries, and warm honey slowly overwhelm Cinna’s senses where she stands and it takes most of her will power to shake free from the grip of the captivating fragrances.

“No time to drink now.” Cinna quietly reminds herself as she scans the faces of the patrons. “I’ll celebrate _after_ I get what I came for.” She spots the head of red she had pursued into the tavern walking down the hall to the stairs to the second floor, possibly turning in for the evening. “Perfect.” She quietly purrs in her throat.

She darts across the room with such grace and speed that it would put even a lithe wood elf to shame then quietly climbs up the stairs, peeking out from the stairwell to ensure no one else was around to bear witness to the coming events. Spotting no one outside the closed doors of the other rooms, she quietly slinks to the one room she knew was always open for travelling renters from word of a friend of hers, knowing her target would be in there. She prepares a polished dagger behind her back, the engraving of vines prominent on the dark blade as the light bounces off the smooth curves of the decorations. She knocks on the door ever so calmly as she twirls the deadly implement behind her back, looking around again to make sure no one is watching.

“Who is it?” A familiar voice calls out from the room, sounding male by pitch and gruff in tone.

“A friend who wants to see you,” Cinna states sweetly, almost resisting adding a hiss potent with venom to the end of her pure chastised words.

“Alright, come in.”

Cinna carefully opens the door and slinks into the dim room, locking the door behind her as she quietly closes it, finding the man she has been searching for sitting in a chair beside the bed. The only light in the room, a single candle held in a brass holder on the worn wooden bedside table, gives the room a gloomy glow as only the area where the man sits has enough light to allow him to read from the dark blue book in his hands. Cinna takes notice of the man’s clothes, finding he has traded his Pentius Oculatus armor, which she knew well for its tough iron plating and light weight, for what could only be called commoners clothing: A worn brown tunic with ragged sleeves and a leather belt loosely hugging his hips, dull green pants that were ragged at the hems of the legs, and worn fur shoes. His wrists and ankles were wrapped with bandages to hide the ratty ends of his sleeves and the hem of his pant legs, trying to poorly hide the wear and tear of his clothes and any possible battle scars with them.

“Took you long enough to come after me, Cinna.” The man states as he glances up at Cinna, finding she has stopped in mid stride. He chuckles at the bewildered expression on the younger woman’s shadowed face before looking back at his book. “Did that arrow really put you down for a month?”

“It was the blood loss that laid me in bed, not your damned arrow.” Cinna huffs as she reveals the dagger hidden behind her back. “I believe we have a score to settle here, Uncle Maro.”

“Perhaps,” Maro chuckles as he closes his book, setting it on the table beside him before standing up, looking up with hooded brown eyes to meet with the pair of green orbs that glow with anger across the dark room. “Are you still angry about that?”

“Of course, I am, you filthy traitor!” Cinna growls as she lurches forward. She pushes Maro back against the wall and roughly pins him, one hand gripping his tunic while the other presses the sharp edge of the dagger to his throat. “You double-crossed me! My brothers and sisters were worried sick after that dirty attack you surprised me with back in Morthal that _nearly_ killed me. I ought to slit your throat like the pig you are!” She hisses. Her hand twitches and the dagger nicks Maro’s skin, drawing a bit of blood.

“Then why don’t you do so now?” Maro grunts. “No one would know. You would slip out while everyone else scrambled in confusion to try and find the murderer. It’s not as if you haven’t done it before. You did the same thing to your own cousin in Whiterun, so why not with me?”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to make you suffer if you were dead.” Cinna mutters, throwing Maro onto the bed. “Sithis may have had claim on Gaius’s soul but yours belongs to me until I make you break and beg for mercy in my lord’s name.”

“Just as stubborn now as you were when you were a child,” Maro scoffs. “Just like your father.”

“I might be stubborn but at least I know where my morals lie, unlike Gaius.”

Maro lunges from the bed, knocking the female redhead against the wardrobe and struggling for control of the dagger. Cinna kicks Maro off and he crashes into the table, knocking the candle from its perch and diminishing the flame, leaving the room in total darkness. With her sense of sight now all but useful, Cinna wildly swings at the inky blackness, hoping to hit something of flesh but instead embeds her weapon into wood in one of her frenzied down swings. She curses under her breath as she tries to pry the weapon loose, only to have the wind knocked out of her as she impacts the wall then is thrown against the doors. Her ears pick up the whistle of air and she ducks, just barely missing a fist as it cracks into the door just barely grazing the hairs on her head. Grabbing the arm, she drops and elbows the older male, causing him to double over, then throws him to the other side of the room. She blindly reaches out to find her dagger, her palm meeting the worn leather handle and tightening her fingers around it, freeing it after a few vicious tugs before turning to where she believes Maro is now standing.

Cinna feels the grip of calloused hands on her shoulders before Maro roughly shoves her against the wall and pins her, feeling an arm against her throat and a hand disabling her free hand as the one holding her dagger is wedged behind her back. The closeness of their faces is prominent when Cinna feels his breath on her face, the scent of mead and berries heavy as it floods her senses. She glances down, noticing her eyes had finally adjusted to the dark when she finds a pair of brown orbs just inches away from her face.

“Any last words, you spoiled child?” Maro grunts, the arm against her throat harshly pushing in, nearly cutting off her air as she chokes a breath in.

“Yeah,” Cinna croaks with a hoarse chuckle as her bright eyes noticeably become darker. “Say hello to Gaius for me.” She states before swiftly thrusting the dagger into Maro, sighing contently as the arm against her throat falls, relishing the sensation of the warm liquid spilling from the wound and onto her hand. She carefully guides Maro’s body to the ground and slowly pulls the dagger out as the man slowly bleeds out. “Sithis be with you.” She sighs, closing the dead man’s eyes before climbing to her feet. She stumbles in the dark for a few minutes before finding the dead candle beneath the bed, lighting it before she assesses her now blood drenched dress. “Good thing I brought a spare.”

She quickly strips her blood stained clothes and replaces them with a fresh green dress she had brought with her, running a finger along the golden embroidery of a lavender bloom of the sleeve before slipping on a bear fur shrug onto her shoulders. She hides the now red-stained blue dress in the wardrobe, cleans her dagger and searches Maro’s body for any personal belongings then makes her way out of the inn, hinting for the gruff innkeeper to check on his recent guest upstairs before quickly taking her leave. She calmly makes her way back to the stables and retrieves Cassius, climbing onto the inky black stallion and urging him back onto the road. The two calmly disappear into the snowy horizon then spur into a gallop when the city disappears behind one of the many mountains spread across the country. A devilish grin ghosts Cinna’s lips at the sheer memory of the kill just minutes ago as she pulls out the gold and ruby ring she had looted from Maro’s body before taking her leave and slips it onto her own finger.

“Let’s go home, Cassius.” Cinna sighs as she pets the stallion’s neck. “Our Family is waiting.”


End file.
